


Beyond the Ocean Blue

by RubyFiamma



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: M/M, Mild Angst, POV Second Person, Poetic, idk wtf this is, writing at 3 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Yamamoto makes a decision or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Ocean Blue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the product of getting inspired and writing at three a.m. Please do not attempt at home or you end up with crack like this.

**Beyond the Ocean Blue**

* * *

 

The river runs red, and the flesh of your hands are stained pink. Your blade once again gleams white, akin the glow of pale moonlight.

You are but a simple killing machine. A tool no longer able to move through the motions. You are not dull nor lumen; you are nothing, no longer human. You are not dark, you are not light. You are just a shadow of night.

Sometimes, you wonder, if this was the way it was meant to be; if this cruel world had been your destiny.

And sometimes you wonder, _would it have mattered anyway?_

You are no god, no devil, no angel or demon. You service in death but you pay a hefty price. Somewhere along the lines, you've lost yourself; somewhere along the lines, you've given up the fight.

His silver hair glistens like morning dew on fresh blades of grass.

His eyes are tropic oceans, but burn like flowing magma. They are crystal green and shine like coloured glass.

His skin is soft and milky, rich like cream you add to bitter darkness. His gait is strong and tall and proud; despite the life he's had to lead, despite the darkness within him shrouds.

In all the ugly you hate; in the mass sea of thorn and bramble, he is a beautiful rose. He stands out beyond the others in a form ever so juxtapose.

You long to touch his ivory skin, you yearn to touch that wild hair, but his walls are like a fortress, one you cannot breach. He is everything you've ever wanted but everything that's out of reach

When this life is over you hope for peace. To lie you down in a bed of roses and send you on a river dawn. You know there is no place for you here; no matter the course, your map has been drawn.

Your heart is cold, your eyes like ice for you are not an angel of mercy; your title stands for none. You enjoy the kill far too much and you do it just for fun.

Except it isn't fun, not anymore. There is nothing here and nothing there and you are rooted to your barren wasteland. You're no more smiles and no more laughs. You are empty. You are a hollow man.

He is forbidden gold and genuine, plush pink lips and fire sticks.

His tongue is sharp and temper hot; he's ivory keys and splayed out knees; metal bands and one night stands; his bloodshed past not long forgot.

His brand of death is Lucky 7, long white barrels and filter tips; cedar smoke and snakes of heaven. His mouth curls round the butt in a smirk that says _I told you so_.

He is your solitude, your love, your hope. The only shred of good you still hold on to.

Each life you take gives more to your own yet you are left to wonder _just what the fuck is the point of it all?_

What is it that you fight for?

Freedom? No. _You_ fight because you like it; _he_ fights because it's all he's ever known.

But really, this isn't his freedom; this isn't your own.

And so you are trapped in a cage like the animal you are. You are the Vongola's hound; known by black list dossiers and body counts, severed heads and bullet lead.

You owe your life to a Sky long darkened, snuffed out by suffocating masses. There is no end to this tumultuous calamity, you are ruins and he is pride and you wonder how the fuck he's still standing when he's the one that should have crumbled first.

So here you are, chained to this life and there he is and he's alright. He's by your side and he's your sun; he's the light and you're no one.

But you keep within that heart of steel, one last small sliver of hope. Because maybe it's not so bad after all, maybe he's the one that helps you cope.

If you muster the will to set your blade down for one, for two, for many moments then would the world stop spinning?

If you trade your sword for his battle scarred hand; if you trade the kill for a breathless kiss; if you traded  _death_  for  _life_ , perhaps then you'd no longer cease to exist.

It's all it takes, just that one step forward, to open yourself up. It doesn't take much, you are not stone when your near him. He makes you feel like you once were. Careless and free, green and naïve.

It's all that's left -- to tell him now. You look for any excuse, you just wish you knew how.

He's feisty, he's loud, he's brilliant and sound. He's beautiful and deadly but you take that leap readily.

You don't expect the answer given, you don't expect the emotions feeling. He utters something low and soft, that harsh façade for the moment lost. The words he says you know are true.

Against his lips, you take a breath; tranquil and calm, your heart's at rest. In his arms you will find your solace. He'll glance at you with warming eyes and a smirk that says _I love you too_.

You are baseball bats and tatami mats, sushi rolls and a taste of home. You love the kill but love him more because he is wedding rings and better things and he's what you've been waiting for.

 


End file.
